Page 35 of Shame Me
At that, he chuckled, tipping the glass again to polish it off. “For being a good friend…and trying to help.”
My hand still on the table, I reached over again and brushed his. This time, he took it in his and squeezed it. I gave him what I hoped was a small smile—not overdone, because of the situation, but enough to communicate that I really did care. I simply said, “Of course. You’d do the same for me.”
But part of me wondered if that was true. Zack wasn’t a bad guy—but he was completely submerged in his own shit, not to mention his focus on making us famous. Even while he smiled back at me, I wondered…wondered if Zack would ever be whole enough to ever really love someone else, even if that someone wasn’t me.
The daybefore our first time in the studio, Jeff asked to meet with us, inviting us to the restaurant at the hotel where he was staying. It was a bit of a pain in the ass to get there because it was near downtown—so parking was hard to find. Because we took my car, it was a little easier to find a spot, but I was rattled from having to drive through all the traffic. When we got there, I said, “Next time,you’redriving.”
Zack said, “I can drive us back home.”
I didn’t say it, but I wasn’t about to let him drivenow—he’d started drinking as soon as he’d gotten home from work around two. Cy and I actually exchanged a glance as we got out of the car, and I gave my head a quick shake so he knew I wasn’t about to hand the keys to Zack.
The hotel was nice enough inside—a spacious lobby with a couple of love seats and chairs off to the side that looked like they were never used and a polished marble countertop at the reception desk. I didn’t blame the studio for not wanting Jeff to stay in a dive, but I wondered how much this was costing andknew it would add up—and, again, those expenses would come out of any royalties we’d be earning.
This albumhadto be a success. The worry etched into the lines on Zack’s forehead told me he felt the same way. Maybe that was part of why he’d been drinking so much lately. He likely felt way more pressure than the rest of us did.
Fortunately, Jeff helped assuage some of it. When we made our way to the restaurant just off the lobby, he spotted us and stood, waving us in. His hair was a sandy blond, wavy and chin length, his eyes as brown as chestnuts. Zack was still the tallest of the bunch as Jeff was about the height of the other guys. He took each of our hands and shook them vigorously, mine included, and told us he was happy to be working with us.
I was pleasantly surprised that I wasn’t being looked down on for being female for once.
“Have a seat, guys. Are you hungry?”
Before we’d left our apartment, we all ate sandwiches and chips at our tiny kitchen table, knowing ahead of time that we didn’t want to blow any money, whether it came out of our future royalties or our present pockets. We all shook our heads and Zack said, “We ate earlier. We thought we were just meeting for drinks.”
“Well, yes, that’s true, but I didn’t want to be rude. I’m getting an appetizer and would order extra if any of you wanted anything.”
All four of us exchanged glances. Nope, we were in solidarity.
“How about a drink then?”
Although we hadn’t discussedthat, we didn’t know how long we’d be here—and if we talked a lot, we might get thirsty. Again, my eyes met with each of my band members and we seemed to come to an uneasy consensus. Zack said, “Sure,” but I wondered if he was hoping he could have something stronger than caffeine.
Jeff waved over his server, something I’d never actually seen anyone do in my short life. “My guests are ready to order drinks.”
After we all told the server what we wanted and he left the table, Braden happened to pick up a menu and said, “Dude.”
I peeked, as did Zack and Cy, and saw that he was pointing at the price of soft drinks:eight dollars. That meant over twenty for the lot of us, not to mention we’d need to add tax and tip. I was already wondering about Jeff and if he had our best interests at heart.
“Is there a problem?” Jeff asked.
Zack said, “No.”
“If you’re worried about the price, I’m picking up the tab.”
Was he? Or was the record label?
“Anyway, I just wanted for us all to get to know each other before we step into the studio. Time is money there, so we need to all be on the same page before we step inside.” When I peeked at Zack, I couldn’t tell if he thought this was a good or bad thing, but Jeff continued. “I watched a video of you guys performing a couple of songs at a recent concert, so I have a feel for your music. What you’ve got going for yourself is a unique sound—but that sometimes also makes it harder to market.”
“We’re not changing just to—”
“Oh, no. That’s not what I’m saying. We’re not going to change you—and marketing isn’tourproblem anyway. That’s part of what the tour will be all about. People will get to know you without having to compare. But before we go into the studio, there are things I need to know about your vision. Do you want to sound polished or a little raw? Is there a specific sound—a subgenre or even a specific band—that you’re aiming for? Do you want to cross genre boundaries? That kind of thing.”
“The execs said you’d get us radio-ready, whatever that means,” Zack said as the server arrived with our drinks.
We paused while he made sure we all had the right beverages and then Jeff placed a napkin on his lap. “You know, that concept varies from band to band—but you’re right. One thing the label wants me to do is make sure you have a couple of singles that we can push out to radio stations.”
“What if I already know what the singles will be?” Zack asked, an edge in his voice that sounded like a challenge.
“We can discuss that. There are a lot of things that go into making sure a song is worthy for the radio—but that will come later. Right now, I need to know what your vision is. Can you tell me that, Zack?”
